The Ones That Didn't
by Sela McGrane
Summary: Hermione is pregnant. Pregnant by a dead man who she shouldn't have slept with in the first place. She makes plans to make her problem go away. Meanwhile, Minerva, grief stricken at the many losses during the war, makes plans to seclude herself away, alone, for the foreseeable future. Plans change when chance interferes.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, so I know I've been MIA. I am sorry for that. I got hit with about three curve balls in one week, and I'm still dealing with the fallout of that. It's been emotionally trying, to say the least, but I've not forgotten you guys, and Merlin knows I miss writing so here's the beginning of something new for you lot to enjoy while I try and get my head back on straight. Regarding this fic: In no way, shape or form is this meant to be a political statement, nor is it meant to indicate my own opinions on the subject of abortion. This fic deals with Hermione getting pregnant and the struggle she goes through in trying to decide what to do about it. Fair warning. Also, I promise, this is HG/MM. Just not at the start. Enjoy!**

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Week 4

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Hermione stared down at the little line on the strip, gulping at the implications. She was pregnant. Pregnant by a dead man who she shouldn't have slept with in the first place. She closed her eyes and remembered the night they'd slipped back into Hogwarts through the Room of Requirement, and how she'd gone to scout out the situation and alert the Professors prior to the whole of the school being called to the Great Hall.

 _She'd rounded a bend after leaving Flitwick's office and run straight into a tall man with a solid chest, and black robes that were unmistakable. She'd gasped and stumbled back, terrified that her carelessness had just cost them everything. "Professor Snape," she'd whispered._

" _Miss Granger," he'd replied, raising an eyebrow. "I trust Mister Potter is with you? Tonight is the night, then."_

 _He seemed resigned, and to her surprise made no move to restraint her, or alert anyone of her presence. "Sir?"_

 _Severus rolled his eyes. "Do me a kindness and drop the good schoolgirl act. I know damn well how you feel about me, and as your presence means that I'll be dead by the end of the night, I find I give absolutely zero fucks about formality."_

 _Hermione's jaw dropped. "What? Dead? No!"_

 _Certainly, she hardly had much care for the Potions Master turned Headmaster, but she had never wished him dead._

" _Concern, from Hermione Granger?" He said skeptically. "If you're going to fake that much you might as well go for the home run and pretend you've been in love with me for ages or some rot. At least I might get a shag out of that."_

 _Well, she mused, he was evidently not joking about giving zero fucks about formality. Had he just propositioned her? "Whose side are you on?" she asked. "The truth, point blank, Snape."_

 _He huffed. "Yours, you idiot girl. You're supposed to be the smartest witch of the age. Should have been obvious by the fact that your lack of stealth hasn't caused your demise. Your wards are not as good as you think they are, by the way. You'd have been dead months ago if I hadn't been tracking you and strengthening them."_

 _Hermione ignored the knowledge of his assistance, except for the puzzle it solved. She'd sensed someone else's magic in her wards from almost the beginning of their being on the run. Now she knew who it had been. That said, somehow she was more focused on the contrast between his insinuation he'd like to shag her and his calling her a girl. "You can't suggest I shag you and call me a girl a minute later," she said, arms folding in front of her chest as she cast a disapproving stare._

" _Defensive of your womanhood, much?" he asked, moving gracefully forward until his body was pressed against her, and her back to the wall. As much as she wanted to deny it, and despite knowing she should feel affronted if not frightened by the way his hips were thrusting forward in a tease, she was completely turned on at this point in time. "If you're offering… Hermione… far be it from me to turn down a willing woman."_

 _She shouldn't. On so many levels Hermione knew she should deny him and run back to the safety of her friends to gather a bit of peace before the battle began. What she said in response, however, did not show any misgivings at all. "Kiss me," she breathed._

Hermione's eyes opened with a flutter, remembering what had happened next. He'd kissed her, alright. First on the lips, then on her neck, then her breasts and every other inch of her body. It had been hurried and desperate, both mindful of the lack of time available and the fact that they were, in fact, shagging in the Charms corridor. She'd lost her virginity with her back pressed into a cold, stone wall and a man who'd die hours later warming every other inch of her skin. The sharp pain that came with first penetration had been nothing to concern her, given only two months prior she'd been under the Cruciatus Curse.

Neither had said another word. They'd fucked, they'd dressed, and with a final kiss to her forehead Severus Snape had left her standing there alone, off to meet his fate. Now he was dead, and she was pregnant with his child. What the bloody hell was she going to tell Ron?

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Week 5

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Minerva McGonagall was finished. She'd been offered the Headmistress' position, and she turned it down. She'd been offered her teaching post come September. She'd told them to go to hell. She'd been offered any job she liked at the Ministry or St. Mungo's, and to them, she'd sent Howlers in response. Point blank, flat out, Minerva McGonagall was absolutely _finished_.

The Battle at Hogwarts five weeks ago had been devastating. Her whole life she'd worked to educate children, to prepare them to make a better future for the Wizarding world. There had been five hundred and fifty-two students at Hogwarts for the nineteen ninety-six enrollment. There would be three hundred and eighty-six for the nineteen ninety-eight term, this September. Over a hundred and fifty of her students would never grow up, never have the future she'd been preparing them for. Many of those who'd lived were now short one parent, if not both.

She couldn't set foot back in a classroom and teach anymore. She couldn't look one more parent in the eye and tell them that their child would be safe in her care. She couldn't face a Wizarding world that she felt she'd let down. She couldn't do any of that. In fact, Minerva wasn't sure what she could do anymore. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be here. With a sharp movement she signed her name, and a listened as the Goblin in front of her expressed his regret that she was closing her account with them. Over the next week, she'd set her affairs in order. The week after, she'd go to muggle London and stock up on supplies. After that, she was going home. She was going to her manor in the Scottish Highlands, and the grieving witch really had no idea how she was ever going to find a reason to leave again. She was finished.

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Week 6

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Ron Weasley frowned at his girlfriend of just over a month. "Why?" he asked.

"I just…" Hermione let out a shaking breath. "We're all dealing with… everything, Ron. I just can't deal with a relationship on top of it all. Maybe in a year - not that I'm asking you to wait for me - but not now. I'm not ready."

That was part of the truth, Hermione thought to herself, trying to squish down the guilt of breaking up with Ron after having _finally_ gotten together mere weeks ago. But he'd never understand. She was entering her sixth week of pregnancy and had still to decide what she was going to do. She'd thought about claiming the baby was someone else's, but she couldn't bring herself to stoop to that level of dishonesty. Her friends didn't deserve to be lied to, nor did the child she was carrying, if it ever got a say in the matter. Honestly, she hadn't ruled out just doing away with the pregnancy, though she was loathe to even consider that option.

She remembered the summer between her third and fourth year meeting a muggle girl a bit older than herself, who was on the tube en route to the clinic to have an abortion. Hermione had, in all of her self-righteousness, tried to talk the girl out of what she considered to be outright murder. The older girl had just offered a sad smile and told her _sometimes there are no good options_. Hermione understood that now.

Hermione sat with Ron for a few more minutes before claiming she needed to be elsewhere, even if she didn't. She'd apparate over to Harry's, she supposed, and let him know she'd broken things off with Ron. Harry deserved the head's up. After that, she didn't know. Her parents were in Australia, with no memory of her and that was not ever going to change. Her childhood home was a vacant lot now, the house having been burned to the ground by Death Eaters. The Burrow was out of the question given the current situation, and Hogwarts was in the middle of repairs and closed to the public.

Some hours later, Hermione found herself on the same tube line she'd met that girl, just a few years ago. She had no idea what to do, and nowhere to go. Back and forth, she rode, silent. With magic, she could go anywhere she wanted to go. The trouble was that she had no earthly idea where that was, and how she could even consider raising a child when she wasn't sure where she was going to sleep tonight.

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Week 7

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Minerva's eyes widened, first in recognition of a girl who no one had seen in a week, and then in surprise as she saw one of her favorite students to ever walk the hall of Hogwarts making a bee line for a muggle abortion clinic. "Hermione is pregnant?" she gaped. For a moment, she considered her own plan to vanish off the face of the earth and how interfering in a choice this young woman was about to make was rather contrary to her interests in that regard, but in the end her grief over the idea that another child's life was about to be snuffed out overrode, and she set her jaw and hurried to follow her former student.

"Miss…" Minerva started to call out, and then stopped herself. She didn't want to make things worse by announcing the young woman's surname here of all places, so she amended her greeting. "Hermione!"

The younger Gryffindor whipped around, and Minerva's gut lurched at the fear in her chocolate eyes. Was it fear of what she was about to do? Or fear of being caught doing it? "Professor...I…"

"How about we step back outside and talk a minute?" Minerva said kindly. "Please, Hermione. Do not do this."

"I have to!" Hermione stated, a tear falling down her cheek.

Minerva gently took hold of the younger witch's arm and led her back out of this loathsome place before she said another word. "Hermione, you do not have to do this. What makes you so certain you do?"

Hermione shifted her feet. "The...the father… no one would understand. But I can't lie about it either. So if there's no baby, there's no father to discuss… no father to discuss means no one ever has to know. Besides, I have no job, no home, and very little money set aside. I can't _afford_ a baby."

The Scottish witch considered what her former student was saying, and to a degree even understood the reasoning. Still, she could not support Hermione having an abortion. It was against her personal beliefs, and gods… it was a child that didn't have to die. Of course, Minerva didn't have a reputation as an excellent chess player for no reason. She was very good at accounting for variables and seeing the steps needed to achieve the endgame. "Come live with me," she offered, much to her own surprise. "My manor in the Highlands is secluded, safe, and very few people even know where it is. I was already planning on taking some time away from the wizarding world to recuperate from the war, and have made it clear I desire privacy. I know a Healer who could see to your care with absolute discretion, and if you still feel you cannot raise this child when it is born, then giving it up for adoption is certainly an option. Hermione, please… enough children have already died."

Minerva had no idea if she'd hit an emotional nerve, said all the right things, or if Hermione had been secretly praying someone would stop her from doing this, but the young woman didn't argue. "Okay," was all she said.

"Come on then," Minerva said, leading her new roommate further away from the clinic. "I was finishing some shopping here in London, and then we'll head home. Trust me, Hermione, you will not regret this."

Hermione offered her a small smile. "I've always trusted you, Professor."

"My dear, we're moving in together," Minerva said, elbowing Hermione gently in the side, hoping to lighten the mood. "Best call me by name."

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 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So the plot twist in this chapter took me by surprise just as much as I imagine it will take you guys by surprise. My muse is a little asshole.**

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Week 8

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Hermione couldn't honestly say she was resting easy with her decision to go through with the pregnancy, much less live at McGonagall Manor with her former Professor. She wasn't uneasy about those choices either. It was just… unusual. She had commented on how very unsure she felt about everything to Minerva the evening before, and the older witch had laughed, and said "Welcome to parenthood."

She'd been there nearly a week now, and she supposed she was settling in. It wasn't as if she was so pregnant as to stop her doing much of anything at this point, so she'd spent much of her time exploring the grounds. This manor would be a lovely place to raise a child, though Hermione had no expectation of that being a reality. If she hadn't worn out her welcome by the end of the pregnancy, Hermione was sure she'd be shown the door point blank once the baby came, and it was up crying at odd hours of the night. If she even kept the baby, that was.

"What are you thinking about?" Minerva asked from the armchair opposite the one Hermione was currently occupying in the library.

As much as she wanted to be honest about everything on her mind, she didn't want to pressure the older witch into offering a more long term arrangement. Minerva had done far more for her already than anyone could expect of her. "I was wondering if I could take my NEWTS at the Ministry before I start to show, so after the birth I can find a job straight away. I was also wondering if there was a job I could do remotely so I could be working through the pregnancy without alerting anyone of my condition."

That was, honestly, some of what was on her mind and it would serve as a solid conversation. "I wouldn't worry about working now. You'd have to stop any job toward the end of pregnancy and for a time after the birth for you to acclimate to motherhood - should you choose to keep the child, that is - and if your desire is to hide his or her existence for as long as possible, a maternity leave would be counterproductive to that end. Even if you give the child up, you're going to need at least a week or two after the birth for you to stabilize both physically and emotionally. Giving up a child… it's not easy, even if you feel it's the best thing to do."

The look on Minerva's face spoke of personal experience and Hermione gave her a questioning look. "Did you…"

"I had a daughter just before I turned nineteen," Minerva said softly. "And I gave her up. Her father was a muggle man who I'd been engaged to, but I broke things off, afraid that our marriage would mirror my own parents. My mother was a witch, my father a muggle, and my mother lived her life in his world, never using magic as not to break the Statute of Secrecy. That lasted till my elder brother started showing signs of being magical, and my parents' marriage was strained from then on."

Minerva paused, and Hermione remained quiet, allowing the the other woman to gather her thoughts. "I didn't want that. I didn't know I was pregnant when I called off my engagement to Dougal, but being pregnant didn't change that I didn't feel I could marry him. As such, I hid the pregnancy with my dear friend Filius' help - yes, that's Professor Flitwick to you - and after she was born I left her at an orphanage for wizarding children."

"Do you know what became of her?" Hermione asked, thinking of Tom Riddle, a half-blood child left at an orphanage who grew up to become a Dark Wizard.

"I do, though I didn't learn of it till she was into her fifth year at Hogwarts. I was teaching my own daughter, and for five years I didn't know who she was. My half-blood daughter was adopted by a pureblood family...Druella Black had accidently smothered her own infant girl and in fear of going to Azkaban for causing her own child's death, she and Cygnus quietly adopted a little girl, near enough to their own girl's age, and no one was the wiser."

Hermione's eyes widened. She knew the Black family tree well enough to know that who the progeny of Cygnus and Druella Black were, and after doing some quick math she realized that only the youngest of the three daughters fit the timeline. "Narcissa Malfoy?"

Minerva nodded. "Can you imagine how difficult it was to see her marry Lucius? Or raise her son to hate muggles?"

"It's… Merlin, Minerva, I'm so sorry," Hermione said sympathetically. "Does she know you're her mother?"

"Heavens, no," Minerva laughed. "I've thought about telling her, over the years, but what would it serve? Her world would be turned upside down. Her marriage would suffer. And can you imagine young Draco coping well with waking up one day to find that the woman who was Head of his rival House at school is actually his grandmother? No, Hermione, I gave up my right to be a part of her life the day I left her at that orphanage. I share this with you not as a pressure of any kind, but to get you to consider the lives impacted by the choices before you right now. You said your child's father died. Did he have family who might want to be part of this baby's life? How will you feel in twenty years if you have to learn that your child led a life so very contrary to what you'd have wanted for them? Will you be able to handle seeing your child, and later grandchildren, potentially hating you for your nature, because of the convictions of their upbringing?"

Hermione raised her knees to her chin. "He had no family that I'm aware of, and yes, I have looked a bit. His parents are dead, and he was an only child. His mother was an only child as well, and I've not been able to find anything about his father's family, though what little I know about his relationship with his father, I suspect that there was some estrangement there. Do I want to learn my child is being raised in the dark arts? Merlin, no! But honestly there are plenty of cases where children raised by their own parents go contrary to how they were raised. Sirius, for example. Or Barty Crouch Jr. Keeping the child makes no guarantee they will choose a path of my approval."

"Fair point," Minerva conceded. "I'm not trying to argue with you, Hermione. I suppose I just wanted you to know that of all people, I do understand how difficult a position you're in.

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Week 9

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Minerva wasn't quite sure why, after all those years of keeping it a secret, she'd told Hermione about Narcissa. Filius had been her sole confidant in that truth since the beginning. Hermione certainly wasn't the first young woman she'd tried to steer away from the notion of aborting a child, and in some cases, she'd even advocated for giving the child up. In those cases, it was because the mother was in no fit state to see to a child, not because she liked the notion of the risk in sending a babe out into the hands of chance any better. Hermione, however, was as emotionally stable as one could be in the wake of a war, physically healthy, and mentally sound. She was more than able to take care of a child, and Minerva honestly thought Hermione would make a great mum.

She would admit, but only to herself, that the selfish side of her just wanted Hermione to keep the baby because it would increase the chances of Hermione sticking around. Much to Minerva's surprise, she found that she actually quite liked Hermione being around all the time, and the notion of a baby in this house didn't bother her one bit. She knew that any good counselor at St. Mungo's would accuse her of trying to live vicariously through Hermione; to push Hermione into making a choice she wished she'd made, so in a small way she could find some peace in her regret. The counselor would likely be right, to a point, which did make Minerva feel a bit guilty, but at the end of the day Minerva could honestly say she was not a bully and while she would present argument, when all was said and done she knew full well it was Hermione's choice to make, and she would respect that.

As to the _why_ she'd told Hermione about the daughter she'd given up, Minerva supposed it boiled down to the level of ease she'd always felt around the young woman now living with her. Even at eleven years old, Minerva had looked at Hermione and felt a sense of calm. As Hermione grew, that feeling grew into an odd sort of trust. Something inside of her simply _knew_ she could trust Hermione Granger. Odder still, it seemed that the unasked for, and unearned trust seemed to extend both ways. Hermione seemed just as at ease around herself as she was around the younger witch.

Why was that?

Minerva looked over to her bedside table at a picture of her now deceased wife, Amelia Bones. Amelia would have known why Minerva was so drawn to Hermione. She'd have given the matter only a few moments of thought before coming to a probably ridiculous and yet decidedly correct conclusion.

There was a rap on her bedroom door. "Minerva?"

"Come in, Hermione," the other witch called, pulling on a silk robe to cover the rather risque sleepwear she'd already changed into.

Brown eyes widened at the still rather revealing attire on her former professor. Hermione was wearing a pair of lightweight shorts and a tank top that showed her midriff a bit, which Minerva knew was fairly common sleepwear for the current generation. "Um…"

"What did you need, dearest?" Minerva inquired, trying to focus on the younger witch's eyes but distracted by the way pregnancy was already starting to emphasize Hermione's womanly curves.

"I was planning to go into London tomorrow morning for some shopping. I was wondering if you'd like to come," Hermione spewed out, suddenly eying the floor intently. "I mean, I know you said your plan was to hide at the manor for the foreseeable future, but honestly Minerva, you have to get out now and then. Staying cooped up is hardly healthy."

Minerva nodded in agreement. "As it happens I'd been meaning to suggest a trip out over breakfast in the morning. That sounds like a plan. We can grab lunch out before coming home, if you like."

A memory flitted into the older woman's mind of an Italian place in Muggle London she and Amelia had used to frequent. She would take Hermione there. It had been ages since she'd made time for that wonderful little eatery. Despite being in the middle of the city, the restaurant was actually situated between two buildings, leaving an open courtyard which was landscaped to mimic the Italian countryside.

"Sounds like a plan," Hermione agreed. "Breakfast at seven?"

Minerva nodded. "Indeed. Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Minerva."

After the younger woman left to return to her own bedroom, Minerva curled up in bed and found herself sound asleep not long afterward, a long hike that evening having worn her out. Sometime in the middle of the night, Minerva woke with a start at the sound of Amelia's voice giving her the answer she'd been seeking only hours prior.

" _You're attracted to the girl, you idiot,"_ Amelia's voice informed her smugly.

Minerva just stared into the darkness for a while, considering what her subconscious was trying to tell her. It didn't take her long to consider how complicated that would make things if she _were_ truly attracted to Hermione, though she was a far cry from being ready to full on admit it to herself, even if she could plainly see the denial for what it was; denial.

"Well, shite," she muttered grumpily, rolling back over and trying to think of anything but the beautiful woman in the next room.

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 **PLEASE REVIEW! (Should Minerva tell Narcissa the truth, after all these years?)**


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